


Glimpses of History

by Syan_Mythros



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Backstory drabbles, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-05 13:06:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12190533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syan_Mythros/pseuds/Syan_Mythros
Summary: A collection of drabbles written as backstory for my main in FFXIV.  Dacien Mythale (Mateus Server) and featuring his cousin Evie Mythale (Mateus Server).





	1. Ball Boredom

Small fingers tapped on the wood of the window sill. The rich mahogany bore the small smudges, a stark contrast to the other finely polished areas. A quiet exhale as verdigris orbs stared out the window. Rain poured down, the afternoon sky dark and inky. He was bored, impossibly bored. A sound from behind him drew no real reaction from him til a voice called out to him.

“Will you linger there all day young master?”

He turned ever so slightly, dark locks shifting as he did. Those bright orbs fell upon one of the elderly servants. The man was frequently the one around and Dacien could not help but sigh quietly. The man was well meaning enough and yet he still fell to the beck and call of Dacien’s parents.

“The ball is of no interest to me,” he shrugged before he turned to gaze out the window again, “I have little desire for the frivolities of it. Besides… He is late.”

The elderly man moved over to stand ever so slightly behind the smaller boy as he too looked out the window. All of the guests had arrived already save one. Seemingly the one that his young master was seeking the companionship of.

“With the weather as it is he is likely delayed,” the butler offered quietly as he stood straight, hands clasped behind his back. He heard the young boy exhale again and watched thin shoulders sag. Unlike his elder brother Dacien was not as thick and muscular. He lacked a talent in the more martial proficiencies favored by their house and cared little for the intricate dance of politics and intrigue. He certainly didn’t lack skill in the cunning department however he cared little for their ploys and machinations. The aptitude he showed for it however had a few of the servants assured he would be quite the contender when it came time to pass the house leadership over.

At present he was quite content to study and learn, something that the elderly butler actually found more useful than the sheer brute force his elder brother employed. Knowledge would serve far better later in life and while the boy seemingly held no desire for following his brother’s footsteps the servant could but hope the Lord of the house would not force that to happen. Movement from outside drew his attention and that of the eight year old boy. A large black umbrella protected a dark clad man as he made his way quickly down the path and to the front door.

“He’s here!” Dacien exclaimed, the first real emotion the boy had shown since being forced into formal garb for the ball hosted that dreary afternoon. Energy seemed to thrum through the small boy who eagerly watched the dark form disappear beneath the front covering that led to the main estate doors. A stark contrast to his disinterest and apathy mere moments before. The ominous chime rang out, echoing through the manor and clashing oddly with the jovial music from the ballroom. Dacien hesitated no long and took off like a shot, face alight with excitement as the older butler watched on. 

The boy was certainly strange and the family had kept him secret from most. Given his disposition and demeanor he did not fit with the image that Almant Mythale wished to show for his house. As such it was known there was a second son but little past that. Rumors speculated something wrong with the boy, physical or otherwise and only those in the employ knew the truth of the matter from dealing with Dacien himself. He was not the brawny, rough child his father wanted and Almant had yet to bend the child into one he saw suitable to present. Dacien was thinner, smaller and all together more cunning and quiet than his brother. He was an affectionate child at first, who had slowly learned that showing such things left him vulnerable to the harsh criticisms of his father and the scorn of his elder brother. The lady of the house, though frequently deferring to her husband’s will, did have moments of affection to the young boy and it showed in Dacien’s own behavior. He would ignore his father or outwit him with words oft times earning a punishment. Comparatively, he spent favorable moments with his mother in the garden or in the family library. 

The butler gave a sigh as the door was flung open and small feet pounded their way to the entry hall. All too quickly Dacien was gone from his view and the man knew that he would spend the rest of the ball and as long as he was allowed sequestered away with his uncle in the library most likely. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Rain dripped from his umbrella as it was closed swiftly and handed to the nearby servant. His hat followed suit as well as the long black overcoat he had worn. A bow as the items were taken from him and he dipped his head in response ever so slightly. Despite his position he did still appreciate those who assisted him. An odd trait one might have said, and certainly his elder brother did not agree. Though Almant was still far better than most of the lords in their treatment of ‘the help’ and it showed with the loyalty he commanded from them. Perhaps that loyalty was only surpassed by the staff’s respect for Cisent Mythale, younger brother of Almant. 

Cisent could hear the music coming from the ballroom and the titters of women idling in the nearby parlor. Truthfully the man looked more dressed for a funeral than for a ball. A long ornate frock coat in black covered his top half as soft black leather gloves kept his hands from view. The same leather clothed his legs and disappeared into the slightly over the knee boots he wore. Silver trims, buttons and buckles accented appropriately as the family crest stood out on the lapel of his coat. Long dark hair was pulled back from his face in a low ponytail and a pair of rimless glasses perched low on his nose. He shook his head slightly before another sound greeted him. 

Swift footfalls thudded closer and closer before a small form bolted round the corner and into his line of sight. The corner of his lips quirked ever so slightly at the small boy. It seemed Dacien had been forced into a similar outfit for this event though the lad was hardly in the ballroom chattering with those his own age. A dark green however colored his top coat, likely a plea from his mother to not be as somber as his uncle or how he normally was.  
“Uncle Cisent,” he greeted as he neared, almost barelling into the taller man before he practically skidded to a stop.

The elder elezen was quiet, verdigris colored eyes that almost matched Dacien’s, watched his nephew carefully. For a moment Dacien felt the slightest bit of concern, of hesitation that something was wrong. Usually his uncle was pleased to see him and would greet him warmly whereas he would frown if Lucioux was involved. For some reason Dacien had never fully understood Cisent Mythale had never warmed up to the other boy. There were reasons he could see from past interactions and yet… something more was there. There was a deeper reason running like a current he could not see beneath it all. The slightest shift of his uncle drew Dacien’s attention back to the present however when the older man inclined his head ever so slightly.

“Uncle?” Dacien inquired quietly, hesitantly as he watched.

“Ah Dacien,” he finally greeted and a slight grin cracked onto his lips. The young boy felt a pressure leave him and relief flood his small body. Cisent smirked slightly as he watched, “How have you fared my favorite nephew?”

Dacien brightened at the question, the relief having renewed his vigor at seeing his uncle. Excitedly he started to go on about the latest tome he’d found in the library and the delightful game he’d played of hiding when he found a secret nook in said room. It afforded him a hideaway for reading and privacy from the disapproving stares of his father, the abuse of his elder brother and the doting of his mother when it grew excessive. Eagerly he pulled Cisent by the hand toward the west wing hallway wanting to show his treasure off to his uncle.

The man smiled as he listened and gently let the boy lead before he fell into step beside him, one arm around Dacien’s small shoulders protectively. At least a bell passed with the two ensconced in the library before even a servant dared to bother them for a light repast. Sometime later, bellies full and deep in discussion on literature the door was thrust open and angry set of wine colored orbs narrowed at the sight of the two.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Brother.”

The word shattered the jovial mood with ease and drew two pairs of verdigris eyes to rest on the man standing in the door. The picture of formal finery, Almant Mythale stood in the open doorway glaring at the scene before him. Slowly as if unphased by his brother’s ire Cisent calmly closed the book that sat before himself and Dacien. He had noticed how the boy tensed and felt anger grow in him.

“Ah, Almant. T’is good to see you brother dear,” Cisent greeted, though there was something in how those words were offered. There was a terseness, almost as if Cisent were inviting his brother’s anger to himself if only to spare Dacien. He had noted in the past, days when the boy had been on edge and more nervous than normal. Skittish even around his father. It had left him questions that had not been alleviated by the anxiousness expressed when he’d addressed the issue with his sister in law. The amount of incidents like that had however diminished so he hoped at least some good had come from him pressing the issue. Whether it had been the squabbles of two brothers, one significantly larger than the other, or the anger of a father at the fact his son was different… Cisent was unsure but he refused to watch Dacien languish in such conditions. He’d begun offering visits to his home, the family’s secondary estate on the borders of the Black Shroud and Coerthas.

The boy had eagerly agreed and despite Almant’s protests soon enough Dacien was off. A few weeks here, a month there. It made it easier to hide his son’s oddness and keep the rumors of what was ‘wrong’ with the second son of House Mythale to a minimum. Almant could make excuses and explain away absences with tales that his son was off training and learning. Private tutelage for the day he too followed in the footsteps of his father and grandfather. Such things allayed any serious suspicions and it was the small thing Almant consoled himself with when he watched his son eagerly go off with his brother. A brother the man had never gotten along with terribly well to begin with. 

The similarities between how Almant and Cisent got along were frighteningly similar to the way Lucioux and Dacien interacted. This was exacerbated certainly by Almant encouraging his eldest while he harshly judged the younger. Fortunately for Dacien, and to Almant’s great frustration, though Cisent refused to sit idly by. Cisent’s eyes narrowed at his brother as the man gave short, tense movements forward. All too soon Almant was on the other side of the desk, arms crossed as he loomed above them.

“You appear to be missing the ball, brother,” the man ground out, fingers tapping almost aggressively on his own arm, “And it seems you have Dacien here with you instead of where he should be. Mingling with society that he might rethink his path in life and choose a more appropriate one.”

The small boy avoided his father’s gaze, instead finding anything else to place his eyes on. He could feel the undercurrent of tension, the threat hanging in the air. He knew well his father’s anger behind closed doors and Almant had most certainly closed the door when he’d come in. He’d tried to explain once he had no interest in the tittering girls and fancy balls his father tried to push him toward. That had gone as well as the day his father tried to force him to pick up a sword and begin martial training. If other boys could begin now why couldn’t he. On those occasions at least if not more he’d nursed a sore cheek and been kept from all but the most trusted servant to maintain the illusion that all was well. A nervousness grew in him that once more he’d be spending time with a red mark or worse his uncle and his father would fight.

“A more appropriate one?” The question was simple enough surely, but the look on Cisent’s face was as if he were the cat that ate the canary. The man paused, “Surely you of all people should understand the need for a well rounded education brother dear.”

Something in the words and how he said them left Dacien curious but he knew better. He knew now was not the time to ask especially with his father present. Almant seemed to clench his jaw at the words and gave a snort after a moment.

“Very well,” he huffed after a moment, “But I expect you both shall be down shortly.”

His tone was final and he gave a glance to Dacien before he pinned his brother with a look. It clearly told Cisent this was not over but for now he would concede. After he stalked from the room Dacien breathed a sigh of relief and looked to his uncle. He opened his mouth to speak but a hand was placed on his head, gently ruffling hair to soothe the boy as much as stop his question.

“Perhaps I shall stay the night due to how the weather is outside,” he mused which left Dacien excited yet more curious than before, “For now let us finish this chapter and then make our way downstairs.”

“All right uncle,” the young boy whispered as he felt the strangest pang. Something today had changed the course of things. Something after today would never be the same again and it left him apprehensive.


	2. Beginning of the End

He’d shown up with the ledgers in a large satchel. Adrienne had come to him seeking help and advice, a rarity. She’d implored him to help as he was one of the few who Dacien would listen to and on rare occasion get Almant to see reason. A servant had taken his coat upon entry yet he refused to relinquish his hold on the leather case. Cisent had requested the presence of Nirault as he made his way to the sitting room his sister in law was waiting in. The butler was one of the oldest in service to the house and quite fondly remembered the days when Cisent’s own small feet carried him around it. In fact the man’s loyalty was not to Almant at all, something that had made keeping Dacien safe much easier over the years. Cisent paused, a bit aways from the closed doors of the sitting room as he heard footsteps approach.

“Master Cisent,” Nirault greeted with a low bow as he came to stop in front of the dark haired man. A fond smile played at the corner of Nirault’s lips as he straightened, “What can I do for you this day sir?”

“I would ask you an indulgence my old friend,” Cisent murmured quietly as his gaze cast down to the satchel in his hands. He moved his eyes to the butler’s own, a strange seriousness in his bearing.

“I would ask you to guard these and keep them secret and safe,” he explained as he held the satchel up.

“My lord?” Nirault questioned before he gently took the offered satchel. Not the first time he’d been asked such a task. Cisent had done the same when Dacien was younger, ensuring the butler aided the young man in finding nooks and crannies to hide himself in should the need arise.

“These are duplicates, copies of my ledgers, my holdings, my will,” Cisent offered quietly, voice strangely solemn, “My solicitor has the originals already however I would ensure that there is another aware of what I intend.”

“Are you quite well sir?” Nirault gasped as the leather case was handed to him. Concern touched the man’s voice as he gazed to Cisent with wide eyes, “Surely you do not plan to leave us so soon?”

“I have no intentions, no,” Cisent replied with a heavy sigh, “However we all know how things come to pass. Thusly I would ensure that should the worst happen those dear to me are cared for appropriately.”

The answer was cryptic and left Nirault with a burgeoning sense of worry. Carefully he held the satchel against his chest, a hand protectively placed on it as he dipped his head, “As you wish sir. And please, if you will pardon my forwardness...be careful.”

Cisent gave the older man a fond smile and a small nod, “I shall Nirault, I shall. Please look after Dacien when I am not able to. I worry for him and what my brother and my nephew shall do to him.”

“Always and forever sir,” Nirault vowed quietly, “It is my pleasure.”

Cisent smiled then, a warm and inviting one as he began to walk toward the door leading to his sister in law. Nirault followed a step behind, satchel now clutched in his left hand.

“The young lord reminds me quite a lot of another lad I knew once,” Nirault offered with a quiet chuckle as they reached the door and one gloved hand was placed on the latch, “A lad who because a remarkable man I am proud to have served.”

“Thank you Nirault,” Cisent murmured before he composed himself into his usual disinterested and aloof air he greeted most people with. Carefully the door opened and as he passed the threshhold, the ornate wood closing with a click behind him Nirault could not help but wonder if he had seen the man for the last time. He brushed that thought aside as the weight of the satchel called to him and he moved off to secure it in one of the hiding spots in his room, safely kept til such a time as it was necessary. A time he hoped would never come.

~~~~~

 

“Ah, Cisent!,” Adrienne greeted as the door shut behind the elezen man. She turned slightly to face him from where she sat upon the lounge. A smile was given and yet it was strained, something Cisent suspected was due to the likely vein of conversation about to happen. He’d overheard the whispers lately from staff. He’d seen himself the way Dacien was all but kept from him and from the library. Nothing felt as if it was about to bode well.

“Cisent, dear brother in law,” she started and he could see her fingers working the lace of her sleeves between them. Small nervous movements, something she was known for when faced with an unfavorable situation. After a moment she seemed to regain herself and gestured for him to sit at the chair across from her.

“I thank you for coming and on such short notice,” she offered as she tried to still her hands enough to pour tea. Her guest however raised a hand she pulled back only to watch quietly as Cisent poured his own.

“You called me here for more than tea Adrienne,” he started as he eased into the seat, cup in hand, “I am not blind to the changes happening of late. Speak freely that we might come to a resolution without the time wasted on dancing around the matter.”

She paused, looking almost stricken for a moment before she dipped her head slightly. A quiet inhale that she held before finally exhaling followed, “The matter at hand is Dacien. Almant is insistent that he follow in the proper path in life and take up a martial weapon as Lucioux has done.”

She paused and shook her head slightly, “I tried to persuade him to see about another course, the scholasticate perhaps. Should Dacien join the clergy surely that would be good enough, a high enough standing… however it was not met favorably.”

She paused, taking the moment to compose herself and Cisent observed. He well knew his brother’s temper, his brutish behavior. Behavior he saw being repeated in Lucioux despite his own attempts to help curb such things. As Dacien had grown he realized that Lucioux was far too much like his father and far too gone for even his assistance and focused his efforts on the younger. The younger who reminded himself even from a young age so very much of himself.

Adrienne looked up and turned her gaze to the plants decorating the room and for the barest moment Cisent swore he could see a dim, hidden mark on her cheek. The makeup she wore however was obscuring it and he instead waited. 

“I...I would implore you to make Dacien see reason,” she begged, turning her gaze to him once more. A desperate plea was there, easy enough for anyone to read, “I have done all I can. He insists upon not following what his father wants… He wants to spend time reading books, studying magic. Things Almant hates. I… fear for him both from the path he chooses and what his father will do.”

“This is not new Adrienne,” the words were bit out, quiet but cutting, “You’ve watched him do the same to Lucioux and you knew what kind of a man he was back then.”

She gave a quiet moan and sagged forward, her head dipped, “I did, doubly over. I had hoped however… Lucioux following his father’s footsteps I had hoped to be enough. To appease him and yet…”

She trailed off and Cisent cut in, “And yet it is not and now he seeks to do the same to my nephew. Dacien is a very gifted boy. His skill with magic and aether surpasses mine by malms and more. He is not one for martial combat.”

Cisent shook his own head, “That he excels with a single rapier as much as he does is a feat. And only because of you.”

Adrienne looked up, eyes wide and shocked as Cisent continued with a nod, “He seeks to please you. The boy could give a chocobo’s ass or less to what his father thinks. He seeks my approval.. And yours.”

Cisent’s eyes softened, “You mean the world to him. If you could not reach him or sway him in this I doubt I will have more luck, and nor would I try. You full well know Adrienne that Almant has not been the one covering the second manor’s costs as per his obligation. My own fortune and hard earned money has. My own inheritance and the fortune I amassed on my own have covered the runnings of my home. A home that when I pass will go to Dacien.”

“But… What about Evie?” Adrienne questioned as she tilted her head in confusion.

Cisent set the untouched tea cup aside and gave a quiet sigh. Fingers wove together as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, “She will reside there and care for the home with a suitable inheritance of her own from my own fortune, however it is tradition that it passes to the second born if there is one.”

He hesitated, unsure of how to word things properly. He didn’t need to as Adrienne offered, voice a whisper, “And if it passes to Dacien Almant cannot touch it or take it from her…”

The elephant was out and in the room, called for what it was and silence hung over the two. It was no secret Almant hated his brother, resented him in many ways. That he would seek to reclaim things for himself and strip her of anything was no lie. Both knew it all too well and while one could do nothing to stop it, the other had found a loophole.

Cisent nodded slowly, “If I leave it to Dacien… Almant cannot touch it unless Dacien hands it over. Evie is safe, Dacien and she will both have a home regardless of what happens here… and should you ever need refuge you will find it’s doors open to you and you alone.”

“Cisent…” she whispered, a sadness to her tone as she tried to take in alil that was being said and offered.

“I know you love him, and by some strangeness see good in him but… should you ever have need of a refuge it is there,” he repeated, “My brother is no saint, not now nor ever. Despite your tendencies to allow him such sway I know that you have done your best to shield Dacien and that matters.”

“Thank you but… he is my husband,” she offered and looked away again. Tiny fists clenched in her lap before she smoothed her dress and continued, “And Dacien is my son, please… As his uncle attempt to make him see reason. Take up a martial weapon, follow the path his father wants. No more magic… or books or nonsense.”

She stood slowly, her entire form tense and she would not look at Cisent, “I’ve had guest chambers made up for you. Please, stay here the night and speak with him when he returns later from his fencing lesson.”

Nothing more was offered and stiffly she left the room. Silence followed the thud of the door, heavy and ominous as Cisent sat there. He had a choice before him and the Fury be damned he didn’t know which choice would damn them all save a few, or save most all and damn himself or Dacien.

~~~~~

The guest chambers were warm and inviting and yet Cisent felt nothing but the cold trickle down his spine at the circumstances. Dacien would be returning from fencing lessons shortly and in that time Cisent had a decision to make. One that would save or damn them all it seemed. The man stood arms clasped behind his back as he stared out the window to the grounds below. Thoughts flittered through his head, memories of the past as if offering insight into what his decision now should be. He recalled clearly growing up with the same thirst for knowledge Dacien held now. His father, Vecont, had not been so against the decision to study it and yet still enforced some combat skill as a backup. Almant however had excelled and gone straight into combat training as it suited him best if his abuse to the staff, other children and his own brother were any indication. Cisent’s elder brother had easily cast aside any thought to becoming well rounded and sought only to further his own physical abilities. Strength he quite frequently visited upon others, deserving and not.

“What do I do?”

The quiet whispered question hung in the heavy air of the room, the dying pops of the fire the only answer. Cisent sighed, his heart felt heavy. He knew he could not convince Dacien without hurting the boy unjustly. Even then it was no guarantee to drive him to his father’s desires. Desires Cisent abhorred and found as reprehensible as the things he had heard the servants whisper about Almant’s treatment of Dacien. Bleakly Cisent realized that his question had been truly for naught as he knew what he had to do. The only thing that was right. As that realization settled in he saw two forms walk up the main drive to the manor, one the imposing figure of his brother and the other Dacien. The boy seemed sullen, head down and his rapier case under his arm as he followed steps behind his father. As they neared Cisent could see the irritation on Almant’s face and that strengthened his resolve. His jaw clenched as he turned and set out to go see his nephew and then inform his brother of the decision he’d reached.

Cisent made his way down the hall and toward the entryway as the doors shut behind Dacien’s smaller form. Despite having passed his fourteenth birthday he was still thin and slender and smaller than his brother had been. Verdigris eyes widened and a warm happiness took the place of his sullen features from moments before.

“Uncle Cisent!” he called out before a sharp rap as Almant’s cane came down on the floor drew his attention back to his father. Dark golden brown orbs narrowed as the man looked at his son then to his brother.

“Cisent,” he bit out with barely veiled irritation, “To what do we owe the pleasure. I had thought you too busy to visit.”

“Never too busy to come and see my family Almant,” he offered back as he realized that was the tale he had told Dacien most likely to explain his absence. After all how could the man tell his son he was keeping the favored uncle away on purpose. Cisent gave Almant a smile that said many things as he added with a mocking tone, “After all family love is the strongest love there is is it not? That unbreakable bond forged by blood that binds us together.”

Almant sneered before stalking away with a flourish of his cape. The servants in the hall watched and gave anxious looks to him as he departed before turning to assist Dacien in removing his coat and taking the case.

“Uncle,” he started quietly, almost hesitantly before he glanced down at the way his father had departed, “It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you and our conversations. How is everything? How is Evie? Yourself? Any new tomes you’ve read and would recommend?”

The questions seemed to pour forth after he was certain Almant was gone and he could speak freely. Cisent gave a quiet, slightly sad chuckle and gently ushered Dacien down the hall with him to the guest room. The two settled in and spoke for hours, books and their opinions, how Dacien’s cousin was doing, everything and anything. Everything and anything except the topic that he had been brought here for. Cisent had decided what path he would take and after dinner he would address it with his brother. Dacien laughed happily as Cisent retold a tale of how Evie had taken to planting in one of the cooks favorite fancy dishes because she ran out of pots. The woman had been hardly easy to appease and railed about the wild garden child and how she would have to grow herself a husband if this continued.

“Dacien,” he started as the night wore on, “I would ask you something. I have thought about this and while it will not be the easiest of decisions for any involved I would know your honest thought…”

He was cut off as a servant came to the door to announce dinner. A servant that Cisent did not recall, one that gave the strangest of looks to the two of them before bowing and stalking away. Something felt wrong, something left him ill at ease as Dacien innocently watched his uncle.

“Yes uncle?”

“Ah, no we can discuss it after the meal,” Cisent offered with a reassuring smile, “We should not keep the others waiting. A timely entrance at a ball is one thing but for dinner t’is better to be punctual.”

Dacien’s head tilted slightly to the side as he regarded his uncle before the boy gave a slight nod. The two made their way to dinner then, a tense affair. Dacien could feel the odd pallor hanging over the room, it left him feeling uneasy and he wanted to speak to Cisent about it after. His uncle always had had a way to pick up on such things and explain them however as the meal finished Adrienne requested his company. Dacien looked to Cisent who nodded and gave him a smile.

“Go on, we shall talk in the morning,” Cisent assured him, “I am staying the night and perhaps we can discuss more things over brunch.”

Almant watched, eyes narrowed as he sat there. Soon enough the only two left at the table were Cisent and Almant. An awkward tense silence hung over the pair, even the servants having wisely waited before coming to clear the table.

“Almant, there are matters I would discuss with you,” Cisent stated as he moved to stand. He knew how this would likely turn and wanted to be at the ready if his brother tried anything.

“Indeed,” Almant sneered, “It would seem there are things I must discuss with you as well. Let us take a walk through the gardens to keep such conversations from...prying ears.”

Something about this left cause for concern and still Cisent nodded. The two made their way out of the manor in silence, Nirault watching them go with a strange feeling of dread. Silence hung over the two forms despite the churning tension building.

Once they were far enough away from the house, well within the gardens thick hedge walls Cisent stopped, “I want Dacien to come live with me. I shall take him in and cover his costs. Nothing shall fall to you. It will be better for him.”

He paused and tried to reign in his bitterness as he continued, “You can pass him off as my child if need be to appease your social climbing but it is better for him than to have you force him into a choice he does not want. Surely you recall father’s teachings? His belief in a well rounded individual?”

Laughter, harsh cruel laughter met Cisent’s ears as Almant faced away from him. Shoulders shaking the blonde man turned to regard his brother a strange look in his eyes.

“You wish me to hand you the boy as if I cannot still make him follow the path he needs to?”

The words were harsh, sharp and bitter. Anger and disbelief mingled as he pressed on, a wild light growing in his eyes with each accusation, “You expect me to hand you one of my pawns so easily? You are part of the problem you realize? You filled his head with nonsense. You encourage him to be different. You encourage his defiance to my wishes.”

“Your wishes are to use him as naught but a stepping stone Almant,” Cisent shouted as he felt anger grow, “He is a person not a tool, not a pawn! He’s your son for Fury’s sake!”

“If he does not follow the path he should then what use is he to me blood relation or not,” Almant offered coldly, a calculating sneer across his lips, “If he won’t fall in line with you around then perhaps you need to stay away.”

“I won’t do that and you damn well know it,” Cisent argued back as he felt his anger and irritation send his aether into a frenzy, “I won’t see you do to him what I’ve watched you do to Lucioux. You made him into a fine man. The spitting image of your boorish and brutelike behavior. He is a fighting machine yes, he shall earn you many accolades on the field of combat but that is where it ends. He lacks the reasonability to behave in society. Already there are whispers he’s been attacking others in the barracks that deign to cross him. The only thing sparing him is his noble blood and the clout he holds with those who will lie for him.”

“Lucioux is exactly what Dacien needs to be,” Almant snapped, “A dutiful son who seeks to do what he must to benefit the house he was born to. Already we’ve a black mark with you and your wife. Certainly she could behave in society but her birth…”

“You married for love,” he mocked as he moved closer, cane in a white knuckled grip, “And where is that love now? You’re left with a daughter that favors plants to the parties she ought to and a corpse in the vaults. Though I must say, her death at least was a saving grace as she can no longer sully the bloodline with more children.”

Cisent tensed, jaw clenched as his hands fisted at his sides. He tried to reign in the aether and anger swirling in him as small sparks popped around his hands. He’d long gotten used to Almant’s tactics but this...this was a low blow to be sure.

“Watch your tongue brother,” Cisent growled as Almant moved closer, the sneer on his tanned face prominent, “T’is one thing for you to lay your blows at me but to drag in my late wife, my daughter and your own son is truly reprehensible.” 

“Ah but that is how I am isn’t it brother dear,” Almant spat out as he moved to circle Cisent’s tense form, “And that is how it shall be. You shall stay away for good, Dacien shall fall into line and when we take that last step into the House of Lords you shall regret crossing me dear brother.”

Cisent glared at Almant as the man circled around to his front again and tried to maintain himself, “Dacien shall come with me regardless of what you want. Children walk free from families, disowned even, every day and if him stepping free from your attempts to shackle him requires that then I shall see to it myself. At least then he can be guaranteed to grow up as more than the pawn of a deluded man out for personal gain.”

“He’s your son Almant,” Cisent continued, “He wants your love and deserves it. He is not you, nor Lucioux, he is his own person and you must respect that.”

“You won’t give up will you?” Almant mused, head canted to the side slightly as he regarded Cisent as if in a new light, “You won’t cease at this will you?”

“Not while I draw breath,” Cisent vowed, steel laced through his words as he gave a shake of his head.

“That will be a problem then,” Almant murmured quietly, an odd undercurrent to his tone as he added, “But one we can easily fix.”

Suddenly the cane was flying toward Cisent in an upward swinging motion as Almant lunged at him a snarl upon his face and a strange delight in his eyes.

“I have thought of this day for years now brother,” he howled as he went to strike at Cisent. The dark haired man leapt back and away, shock and outrage painting his features as he began to draw the aether to his hands in a defensive spell while Almant pressed another attack, “A blemish too long I’ve been forced to deal with. Would that you had perished that winter you fell ill things would have fallen into place much more smoothly. But now I must take matters into my own hands it seems.”

“What are you saying Almant? This is madness!.”

Cisent jumped back away from the next attack and brought up a burst of flame to retaliate. Still not set on harming his brother but more to keep him away. Again and again Almant lashed out, hardly dissuaded by the bursts of magic and aether from his brother. He only held back a moment as he slowly slid the sword from inside the cane out. The motion was intended to instill fear in Cisent but the man took it as a chance to draw his own weapon. A long dagger in dark metal with runes along it and a purple crystal set in the hilt. He readied to bring it up to defend as Almant came in with a daring slash at him, the wood of the cane now serving as a secondary weapon.

“You say madness and I say it is doing what I should have done ages ago,” Almant cackled as he dodged a blast of fire. Greenery and plants in the garden were singed and sliced as the two squared off. Blows traded back and forth while a third set of eyes watched on, unknown to one of the two. Cisent’s aether was screaming as it dwindled down after continuous attacks and defenses. Blood dripped down and soaked clothing where Almant had landed a blow. Almant himself was faring better but still, wounds and hints of scorch marks had made their mark on him. However he was certainly better off than Cisent. Almant looked up then, past his brother and smirked. Cisent was torn, to take his eyes off Almant or see what had him amused. Before the decision could be made he felt it, the sharp pain as a dagger found it’s way into his back. Low and with an upward motion he jerked, a pained wheeze escaping him as he turned his head just enough to spy the servant from before. The one who had left him with an uneasy feeling. The one who now grinned at him before violently ripping the dagger out.

Cisent staggered, his free hand going to the wound in a futile attempt to staunch the flow. Almant laughed, a dark sound which made the new man’s grin wider and more malicious. Slowly Almant strode forward, one foot meaningfully placed before the other, “You see brother dear… I am the eldest. I am the Lord of this family and I get what I want. With you gone all the stray pawns shall fall into place and after such a heinous act surely the other Lords will look more favorably on our house.”

Confusion flitted across Cisent’s face for a moment as he felt his strength give out. He sank to one knee as Almant strode over closer, to stand almost beside the new assailant. A wicked smirk spread across the blonde’s lips, “After all to slay a heretic who had come in to assassinate the nobility of Ishgard...why it’s the stuff that heroes are made of.”

Before either man could register what was meant Almant’s sword had cut deeply through the servant, a vicious snarl on his face, “You’ve served your purpose ‘heretic’ now I shall ‘avenge’ my brother and you shall not see the light of day, nor the payment promised for a job well done.”

A swift motion ripped the sword out of the startled man sideways leaving a great gaping hollow. He spluttered, blood and froth coming from his mouth as with a wet thunk he sunk to the ground. Hands dropped the bloody dagger and attempted to pull his blood and bits back inside as he looked up to the Lord of House Mythale. The man who had hired him to help with this task, who had promised him riches.

“Ah before I forget,” Almant offered as he sneered and flicked the blood from his sword. Slowly he leaned down to the man gasping his last breaths and whispered, “Wonderful job. It was lovely working with you.”

With a dark chuckle he kicked the dying man over as he straightened. The wet thud made his grin widen as he turned to Cisent who knelt panting not far away. Blood had begun to pool beneath him and the flickering green of his hand was not enough to stop the damage and reverse it. Verdigris eyes narrowed as another wave of pain took him, “Monster… You’ve become a monster.”

His voice was quiet, whether shock, exhaustion or blood loss it was hard to say and Almant merely grinned as he plunged his sword home in the body, leaving it there. Carefully he knelt and retrieved the dagger the dead man had used already. With it in hand he turned it over again and again, almost thoughtful as he strode back toward Cisent’s crouched form. Carefully he knelt in front of his brother who shied away from him. The empty hand came out and dragged him back by the hair. A strangely predatory and yet tender look crossed Almant’s face as he leaned close.

“Monster… Man… It’s funny how often the two coincide brother dear.”

As he finished speaking, the last two words a harsh whisper, he drove the dagger home through his brother’s heart. Golden brown orbs watched as green eyes widened, a strangled sound as the dagger found it’s mark. As those eyes slid shut, darkness overtaking Cisent he heard Almant chuckle once more as he tore the dagger free. He felt himself sink under into oblivion the last thoughts of his nephew and dread at the words that carried him to the darkness.

“Let us hope that dear Dacien is not quite so stubborn as you…”


	3. Moments in Mourning

It was raining, the sky dark and ominous as it hung over them. The boy stood there, an uncomfortable lump in his throat and an ache in his heart. Red rimmed his eyes but no tears fell. He wasn’t even sure if he had any more to spare. Beside him with Nirault behind her stood his cousin. Four years his junior she still had tears streaming down her face in addition to the rain. Dacien’s mind whirled and he wondered how things had come to pass. He was torn from his musings when Evie’s hand reached out and latched onto his own, desperate for contact. He gave her a reassuring squeeze as he waited for the inevitable. A rumble of thunder punctuated the silence and mingled with the quiet sound of crying.

The sound grew as he heard footsteps upon cobblestones and slowly he turned his head to look. The pallbearers had come, six men bearing the dark and ornate coffin between them. The coffin which held the closest thing he had to the storybook idea of a father. True enough his blood relation was behind him and his brother, but Almant was not a father. A tyrant perhaps, the head of the house certainly, but father was not something one would ever use to describe him. The lump in his throat grew as he struggled to keep his composure. Beside him Evie began to sob more loudly, her hand shaking in his. He gave her a reassuring squeeze as he attempted to swallow that lump down.

Her hand clutched desperately as his as the procession grew closer to where they stood, to where the priest waited to perform rites before the coffin would be interred in the family mausoleum. She shook beside him and he gave another reassuring squeeze which only caused her to cling more tightly to him, her small frame shaking against his own. Her sobs, while quiet were shaking her whole form. Whether from the attempt to stifle the sound or the sheer emotion of it all. Likely both Dacien suspected. As the coffin was set upon the stone dais the priest raised his hands and Dacien riveted his eyes to the family crest set in silver against the black wood. He tuned out the words, the typical fare of Halonic rites that he was sure Cisent would have scoffed at. Dacien lost himself to thoughts. This seemed so fantastical, so unreal. But he recalled the morning the news was broken. That morning would forever live etched in his memory.

~~~~

He’d woken early, a strange feeling that something was not right. There were noises outside, voices shouting and heavy footsteps. A glance out his window showed a contingent of Temple Knights spread over the grounds and a strange dread settled in his heart. Quickly he dressed before he tore from his room. His brother was standing in the main entry way, having just come from his own rooms and for once it seemed the animosity between the two was cast aside in favor of a mutual curiosity. One that was swiftly answered as Adrienne appeared from the parlor. Her face was ashen and eyes red rimmed as she idly tore apart the handkerchief in her fingers. She was oddly silent and withdrawn, her eyes unfocused as she looked at Lucioux for a moment. When her gaze came to rest on Dacien however a hitched sob left her and she collapsed to the floor, her body shaking. Immediately Dacien flew to her side, arm around her as he looked up at Lucioux for any indication of what happened.

“Mother, mother please what is wrong? What has happened?” he asked quietly, hand rubbing her back gently as she cried into the shredded fabric.

No coherent answer came and she only sobbed harder. Nirault appeared moments later and assisted in getting her up and back into the parlor. Lucioux stood in the doorway watching as the two settled Adrienne on the fainting couch, her sobs easing.

“I shall bring you a fresh handkerchief my lady and some herbal tea to help soothe you,” the butler offered as he gestured Dacien to follow him. Lucioux, his own curiosity great strode behind them on the way to the kitchens. Nothing was spoken as they prepared tea, Dacien assisting while Nirault gathered a few extra handkerchieves to put on the tray with the tea. Soon enough the blonde got bored and wandered off ‘to find his father and see what this foolishness was about.’

Nirault breathed a sigh of relief as he went and gently pulled Dacien to sit down on a stool at the counter. The butler looked weary, far older than he was as he gently spoke, “My young lord… Dacien… it pains me to give you this news and yet I fear if I am not the one to give it.. It will be offered in a less pleasant manner.”

Immediately a strange knot formed and the growing feeling of apprehension bubbled up. He sat and waited as the butler sought to find words. A part of him had suspicions of course, obviously something terrible had happened. Everything however ground to a halt as the next words met his ears.

“It would seem your Uncle was murdered last night, by a heretic that infiltrated into the manor.”

Verdigris eyes stared almost blankly at Nirault as the words sunk in. Cisent gone, murdered. Without realizing his fingers curled in, grasping at the fabric of his pants. Tears welled up as the lump in his throat threatened to choke him. A shaky breath left him as his lips opened to refute the information, surely it had to be wrong. As his eyes found Nirault’s though the butler gave a sad shake of his head and stepped over to envelop the teenage boy in a hug.

“Forgive me my young lord,” he whispered as he felt Dacien shake with silent sobs in his arms. His heart went out to the boy, truly. Nirault had long known that Dacien favored his uncle more than his father. A man even Nirault found unpleasant on many an occasion and yet Cisent had always treated the staff fairly. Truth be told most of the staff were reeling from the news despite their actual Lord. One heavier set cook bustled over after preparing the tea and gently set it down. Nirault thanked her and carefully eased the crying boy into her arms instead. Rauchelle had served almost as long as Nirault and despite being confined to the kitchens unlike the butler did her best to watch out for the boy. With a heavy heart Nirault moved to take the tea off to the lady of the house. 

Time passed and soon enough it felt there were no more tears to fall. His eyes were red rimmed as Dacien gently pulled away from Rauchelle. She gave him a sympathetic look and offered him a soft cloth to dry his face. He took it with shaking hands and began to dry his eyes with a quiet offer of thanks. She gave him a sad smile and gently suggested helping him to his room. He nodded and she assisted him along, at the proper distance behind him. Partway he deviated, moving instead to the library. She nodded and after he dismissed her went back to inform Nirault. Something about this whole business didn’t sit right with her and she was sure he felt the same way.

~~~~

The sky rumbled and the rain fell heavier now as the coffin stood out, demanding his attention despite his desperate wish that this was all some nightmare. Words droned on, rites and such that he tuned out. His mind played memory after memory of times spent with Cisent. Summers spent at the second manor, trips to other cities for business. Evenings spent reading stories with Cisent and Evie.

He cast a look to her as she clung to him, face buried in the thick wool of his coat. Gently he pried his arm free from her grasp to wind around her. She had nothing now, both her mother and now father gone. A part of him mused if she would come to live with them now but he suspected already Almant had other plans in store. His father had been oddly detached throughout the events, hardly even offering comfort to his own wife let alone anyone else. In fact beside his father stood Adrienne, her body shaking slightly with quiet sobs as she dabbed at her cheeks periodically.

A part of Dacien thought he ought to offer her what he could, it was clear his father and elder brother would not and yet Evie needed him now. Evie who had buried her mother at the tender age of five now was losing a father not a full five years later. A thought struck him and worry filled him. With no one left if Almant did not take her in where would she go? What fate would await her?

Soon enough the priest finished and mourners began to disperse as the family moved to lay simple flowers on the coffin before it was carried to the family vaults. He helped Evie, walking up with her and laying his own at the same time as hers before they moved off to the side and waited. Almant paused, the flower in his hand as he stood as the last to offer. There was something in his face, something that didn’t fit with the mood of the occasion and Dacien couldn’t place it but it left him curious. Finally the last flower was offered and the family made their way back. The solicitor would be by shortly to discuss the terms and finalize matters. Something that left an uncomfortable knot in his stomach.

~~~~~

Silence held over the house save the tick of the grand clock in the parlor. Tears had been spent and it seemed impossible for more to come. Evie sat beside Dacien on the chaise lounge, her small form huddled against his own. Surprisingly on the other side, one arm around the girl was Adrienne. Lucioux almost lounged in the chair across the room watching the fire disinterestedly. He cared little if he had to be here, there were other things he’d prefer to do but father had insisted. The same man who stood with eyes transfixed on the burning logs and embers. No one spoke, either from a lack of knowing what to say or grief having claimed their desire to break the silence. A knock came then, and the door opened to reveal Nirault with another man behind him. A large satchel bag in one hand he pressed his hand to his chest and dipped into a bow following Nirault’s own.

“The solicitor my lord,” the head butler offered as he stepped to the side slightly. The solicitor stepped forward barely into the room and stopped. All eyes had fallen to him save one pair. The small girl that sat huddled between the two refused to look his way though he could see her hand find the boy next to her. Her fingers threaded between his own and Dacien gave a reassuring squeeze back as he watched the newcomer carefully. This worried him, what would happen now to Evie. What fate would come for her.

Almant turned and waved the man in, dismissing Nirault with another gesture. As the door clicked shut Dacien felt a strange sensation creep over himself. Worry and sadness were still very much present and yet a flash had struck him. A strange inkling that things would be okay. Idly he chided himself that it was certainly not okay right now but yet, that things could be better than the worst possible outcome was something he desperately hoped for.

“Lord Mythale,” the solicitor began with another slight dip as he moved toward the leather chair at the small writing desk, “My sincerest condolences for the loss your family has been dealt. I have come to discuss those final testaments of Lord Cisent de Mythale.”

Almant clutched at his cane tighter, irritation setting in. He wanted this whole process done and over. He had plans for those ventures and properties his brother held as well as the fortune. He had plans to use this to get his youngest in line and strip those foolish notions from him. Putting up the facade he was moved and saddened by his brother’s ‘untimely passing’ however was harder as the farce wore on.

“Thank you,” Adrienne offered quietly with a sad smile to the man as he began sorting ledgers and bound scrolls from the satchel. Carefully things were laid out on the table, the silence hanging over the room once more. Evie nervously clutched to Dacien trying to make herself as small as possible.

“Let us begin then?” The man asked as he pulled two slips of parchment free, elegant script on both and opened one of the large leather bound tomes. As was normal he began listing the assets of the man’s estate. Assets that would normally fall directly to Evie but due to her age had to be settled elsewhere til she was old enough. Assets that Almant was all too eager to get his hands on. He lost himself in the thoughts of what all he could do as the man finished.

“And that concludes the assets accrued by the estate. Under normal circumstances such things pass to the first born child, in this case one Evie Mythale,” the solicitor explained as he shuffled through the papers carefully before bringing a worn piece of parchment to the top, “Given Miss Mythale’s age however a guardian would be appointed to guide her til she comes of age. Usually the closest kin who would be Lord Almant de Mythale in this case.”

There was a pause and an almost triumphant smirk crossed Almant’s face. He was mere moments from signing the documentation that would place her in his control, her fortune and everything else that his brother had held his to do with as he pleased. Evie shrank into Dacien’s side more, she was young but not stupid and she knew how Uncle Almant looked at her. It was the same way he had looked at her mother and even on occasion her father. Quiet tears began to fill her eyes at the gloomy prospect of being his ward for the next years. Dacien gave her another reassuring squeeze while Adrienne rubbed her back gently. The woman while cowed by her husband was no fool and knew he held no love for their niece.

“Of course we shall be happy to take her into our home and raise her as my brother would have wanted,” Almant offered as he made his way toward the desk. He could feel the delight and enjoyment fill him at having ‘won.’

“Ah forgive me Lord Mythale,” the man interjected, “Usually that is the case. However there are very strict instructions, all within the bounds of the law regarding what is to happen here.”

Almant froze in his movement, eyes narrowing slightly, “What? What instructions are to be followed?”

Irritation grew in him, once more gripping his cane tightly as he tried to restrain the growl in his voice. The solicitor looked at him strangely as he cleared his throat and pulled another document forward to join with the weathered parchment.

“In the event of Lord Cisent’s passing he has named the guardian who shall watch his child,” he explained, “Naturally were the man unable or unwilling such guardianship would pass to you however as he is of sound mind and body he has already been contacted. His agreement was given and the papers signed.”

The man held up one of the two papers and Almant managed to restrain himself enough from just ripping it free from the hands as he scoured it. Eyes narrowed as he read the written name there, the head steward under Cisent’s employ. The man had been an accomplished knight and brought on not only to serve as head of the staff there but as a guard for the smaller child while she wandered gardens. A part of him toyed with the idea of finding a way to discredit the man, or otherwise remove him but it would seem too suspicious at present.

“I see,” he growled out, “It would seem my late brother thought of everything to keep your home life as stable as possible child.”

His glare shifted from the paper to her briefly and Dacien tilted his head as he regarded his father. Almant turned back to the paper and roughly shoved it toward the seated man.

“I presume then that the assets and fortune tied to the family that are not part of her inheritance fall back to the main house then?” he pressed, taking some small contentment that all the rest then would fall back to him. The solicitor however was silent for a moment, almost shifting nervously in his seat.

“Ah, actually about that as well,” he started, feeling the tension begin to fill the room, “Everything else was to pass to one Dacien de Mythale, nephew of Cisent de Mythale.”

Almant’s hand shook as he gripped the cane. Eyes whipped to his son and regarded that look of surprise as he bit out, “He’s but a child himself.”

“True he is younger however he is technically of age to inherit and hold the properties without a legal guardian,” the solicitor explained as he watched this strange set of reactions. It wouldn’t be the first he had seen something of the like but still it concerned him. Adrienne meanwhile was glancing between her husband and her son, worry filling her. It would seem Cisent had held true to his goal and kept everything from Almant’s hands. A part of her felt some relief at that, that the two would have what they were intended to have from the beginning and yet she knew Almant’s rage later in private would be nigh unbearable. She feared for the two, her son most of all.

Lucioux had been sitting watching and gave a quiet snort as he watched his father get riled up. None of this concerned him and he was bored enough, though it was curious. The look on his little brother’s face was definitely surprise. He hadn’t expected this it was obvious. The solicitor prepared a quill with ink and a paper that he needed to sign. Almant glared at Dacien and the boy swallowed thickly. 

“Surely you don’t want such a burden, allow me to handle those affairs for you,” Almant offered, more a veiled threat than actual concern. 

Verdigris eyes moved to his father and surprise melded away into a strange mix of seriousness. He was no fool, his uncle had left things as they were for a reason and Dacien would respect that.

“It’s quite all right father,” he offered quietly as he gently pulled himself from Evie’s grasp, “It is best if we honor Uncle Cisent’s wishes. I am not so unwilling to take up the mantle in his stead. If not for me then to be assured that Evie will be all right.”

The steel that laced the young man’s tone was unwavering and Almant’s jaw clenched as he watched Dacien move over and sign the paperwork keeping everything from his grasp. He’d failed and it burned him inside, rage filling him. His brother had outsmarted him and even in death kept everything from him. He knew well enough to know Dacien would never hand over things to him. This would take more planning and time. In the meantime he would have to make do. Almant was pulled from his thoughts as he watched the solicitor shake hands with Dacien and offer him more condolences once more as well as a card should he require anything. The man gave Almant a look before looking back to Dacien and giving the boy a smile. Evie had clutched to Adrienne in the absence of her cousin and now as Dacien moved back toward her ran into a hug with the taller boy. Lucioux shrugged and stood before walking out of the room, the door left open a crack. 

“Again I offer you my sincerest condolences for your loss Lord Mythale,” the solicitor offered after he packed up and had stood to leave, “One must hope that out of such a tragedy some new bonds can be forged. After all family is all we truly have is it not?”

There was an odd meaning behind them and Almant gave the man a stiff handshake and walked away himself. Adrienne quickly excused herself to go and try to calm his anger while the two cousins stood there watching. They knew something was at work here and it did not bode well for the future. For now though one day at a time they would handle things. Together.


	4. Truth Comes Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When things don't go as planned Dacien is called home to uphold his duty to the family. When he doesn't see eye to eye however with his father things become heated and long kept secrets slip out.

The missive had come by personal servant.  Something that left him frowning though not at them.  True enough he had invited them in from the chill and offered tea and a light snack while he read over the two letters that had been addressed to him.  One bore his mother’s neat script and that one only caused mild concern to grow in him.  The one that accompanied it however…   That envelope was a different matter entirely.  The bold and heavy hand of his father had scrawled his name upon parchment before sealing it with the family crest and sending it off.  That letter he eyed apprehensively.  Almant never wrote to him always choosing instead to use his mother to relay demands or vague messages.  In fact Dacien had almost hoped the man had forgotten him entirely but that would be far too good to be true.

Carefully he set the two letters down on his desk and stared at them.  Something told Dacien that neither one would bear good news and so the question of just which was the lesser of two evils arose.  Mouse chittered as the small creature crept onto the desk and eyed the letters.

“I don’t particularly like it either,” Dacien murmured as he shook his head slightly before reaching for the letter from his mother.  As expected the actual heart of the matter was led into with her attempts to placate and butter him up as it were.  Already Dacien suspected what was in his father’s missive and as clawed fingers opened it he had to resist the urge to shred the paper without reading it.  He did not stop however from crumpling it after which earned a concerned skree from Mouse.  Carefully the small voidsent went to read the letter from Adrienne while Dacien’s fist clenched the one from his father.  Luminous turquoise orbs read over the flowery handwriting and the small beast chittered quietly.  The crumpled mess was tossed upon the desk as Dacien set off to plop himself almost violently in the chair before the fire.  

“Of course,” he mumbled as he tried to calm the churning aether within him as his emotions ran high, “Now of all times he would deign to want to see me.  When he has need of me for his own purposes.”

Carefully Mouse smoothed the letter a bit, reading the words there and the voidsent frowned.  On rare occasion had he seen letters from Dacien’s father, and even fewer still had he seen the man in person.  Usually in passing on one of the few times Dacien visited the manor.  Of late Adrienne had taken more to coming to the shop to see him for reasons she would not name and Dacien had been fine with the agreement as it kept him from his father and brother.  Something had raised the man’s concerns about this and Mouse could not say it was unwarranted.  Something was at play here and the small creature did not like it one bit.  Quickly he made his way over to Dacien and climbed up to nestle in on the man’s shoulder against his neck.  

“I don’t trust it Mouse,” he whispered, hand clenched into a fist on the arm of the chair as the other came up to idly pet the voidsent, “This feels...wrong.”

A few quiet chitters followed and he smiled slightly, “Thank you my friend.  I’ll be grateful to have you along.”

Carefully he stood from the sofa and moved through the open door into his bedroom, Mouse still perched on his shoulder.  He already determined he would not go out of his way for his father and dress up more than normal.  Most of his outfits already were of finer quality and with more intricate detail work than the common shopkeep and that would certainly suffice for his father.  A dagger was tucked into the top of his thigh high heeled boot, safely concealed and he carefully buttoned the vest he wore over his normal shirt.  Going out of his way was not something he would do, but presentable he could.  Small adornments were added, his pocket watch on it’s silver chain, a few other bits and baubles of jewelry as well.  

Dacien’s hand hovered over the small velvet box on his dresser. He moved his hand away briefly before bringing it back and opening the box.  A signet ring sat inside the box, shining dimly in the low candlelight.  He paused, looking at the thing before finally he retrieved it and slid it on. He could not say just why but something was telling him it was important to take it.  The weight was familiar and yet not the least bit reassuring. Hurriedly he shut the box and moved to finish preparations to travel.  Keys were placed in his coat pocket once the dark leather was donned and buttoned carefully before he went to retrieve the servant.  One of the newer ones to the manor they were still a bit unsure of how to react to him.  Something that led Dacien to wonder how his father referred to him at home, if at all.

All too soon his heeled boots found themselves at the gates that led up the walkway to his family home.  Unlike some of the other homes near it, the manor sat back a bit with a smaller garden in the front.  The truth was that the second home on the borders of the Black Shroud and Coerthas was actually slightly larger than the family’s home in the city proper.  Movement in an upper window caught his eye, though he did not dare turn to investigate it.  No, he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.  One foot in front of the other he made his way to the main doors which the servant swiftly opened.  Not much had changed inside truly and Dacien found that oddly comforting.  At the very least there were no surprises there.  He dipped his head slightly in greeting to the familiar face of Nirault as the head butler moved to take his jacket.  Quiet greetings and inquiries of health were exchanged before footsteps echoed out on the marble floors.

“Dacien.”

The voice held no warmth or joy as it called out his name and the dark haired elezen felt his jaw tense ever so sightly.  No, his father’s ‘greeting’ was more of a statement of fact, more akin to him stating something like the sky was blue and the grass green than delight at seeing his own flesh and blood.

Slowly Dacien turned as Nirault excused himself to go hang the younger man’s travelling coat.  This left the two Mythales’ standing there in silence.  The frown and glare on Almant’s face was pronounced as he regarded his son. There was no love lost between the two and it showed.  Absent was his mother and Dacien could only imagine it dealt with the family business he had been called back for.  There was a pause before he finally responded.

“Father.”

Another pause as Almant’s face barely fought the sneer that threatened to rise to cross it.  The hand not holding his walking cane rose and motioned to Dacien in a firm sharp movement to follow him.  Silence and a strange pallor hung over the house leaving the bookseller on edge.  He could feel Mouse bristling at the back of his neck where the voidsent was hiding in his collar beneath long hair.  The small creature had become quite adept at concealing itself and it’s energy for travel.  Cautiously Dacien followed as Almant led him deeper into the house, toward the private chambers.  He stopped in front of Lucioux’s door, the sound of a muffled voice coming from inside.  As Almant opened the door carefully the sight that greeted dimly growing turquoise eyes pulled no outward reaction from him.  There on the bed, pale and bandaged was his elder brother and at his side Adrienne, their mother.

Red rimmed eyes raised at the noise of the door opening and turned to fall upon first her husband and then her other son.  She had been crying quite a bit if the redness was any indication.  Her hands clutched desperately at Lucioux’s though the bedridden man made no indication he was aware.  Dacien watched the situation carefully as she called out to him.  There was a turmoil in her that he could visibly see, whether to run to her other son or stay clutching that scarred hand.  In the end a glance to Almant kept her right where she was and she settled for fixing her gaze on him.

“Dacien, darling I’m so glad you came,” she offered, voice quiet and raw from crying.  Thin fingers worried the sheets while she clutched to Lucioux and Dacien easily noted she looked thinner over all.  Had she been that thin when last she visited him?  He recalled she had not taken as many pastries at tea as before but she’d passed it off as a late lunch with his father.  Now more questions swirled through his mind.  The bookseller tore through his mind trying to recall as well if Evie had uncovered anything that might have explained any of this.  Given his brother’s profession however wounds in combat were certainly a thing, but with the end of the war… there should have been no cause for a dravanian attack save a rogue dragon.

“Mother,” he greeted and strode past his father, form tense and head held high.  Dacien came to a stop at her side, crouching to be closer to her seated level.  A side glance was cast to his sleeping brother before he fixed on Adrienne.  Yes, up close she was quite worse looking than he’d realized.  Even Lucioux had seemingly had ill befall him which left Dacien wondering exactly what he had been called home for.

“How are you?  What has happened?” he whispered to her, ignoring the glare of his father in favor of checking on her.  She cast a quick, half lidded glance to Almant before Adrienne looked back to Dacien.  She paused before Adrienne attempted to give him a reassuring smile.  It did not reach her eyes in the slightest.

“I will be fine,” she whispered quietly, “Your father will explain all in due time.  It is good to see you.”

“You as well mother, though you look thin…” he started before a sharp rap of metal on wood rang out.  Almant had brought the cane down and abruptly stopped any further conversation along those lines.  Dacien saw the flinch, the barest of tremors his mother gave at that sound and his fist flexed involuntarily.  He knew that response well, he himself had felt it as a child.  Stiffly he straightened and turned to face the man as he could feel his mother creep closer to his own leg and the bed holding his brother.

“My office,” Almant ordered, before he turned and moved to walk away without even waiting for a response.  Every fiber of Dacien’s being wanted to ignore the command and stay and tend to his mother. He knew however that instead of merely punishing himself Almant would find another means to get at him.  Likely through someone or something he cared about.  

“I’ll return shortly mother,” he offered with a hand gently placed on her shoulder.  She gave him a smile, or an attempt at one.  Fear and worry had long overtaken her and it showed.  Carefully he made his way out and down the familiar hallways, weaving the path toward his father’s office.  The man had not waited, though Dacien had not expected him to.  It was par for the course that Almant would prepare himself for whatever torment he was about to bestow upon his unlucky ‘guest.’  On quite a few occasions it had been Dacien after another failure to fill the shoes his father thought he should.

A pale clawed hand hovered above the door handle, the old habit of knocking first almost creeping up.  That was squashed as a flash of anger filled him.  His mother was suffering and though she didn’t leave as he thought she ought to, he knew why she couldn’t.  His hand came down on the handle, heavy and with an almost white knuckled grip as he opened the door.  Dacien was careful though, to give away too much gave Almant the upper hand and he swore years ago to never let the man claim that sort of power over him again.

“Finally.”

The singular word rang out as Dacien stepped into the room.  It was lit better than the rest of the manor at present though something sent a chill up his spine as Almant stood behind his desk.  The large hearth crackled away oblivious to what was growing in the room.  Idly Dacien mused that if he had brought his sword he could have cut the tension quite easily with the foil’s blade.  Though perhaps in hindsight having his weapon would have led down a worse path.

“I’ll skip the pleasantries as you’ve similarly done,” he bit out, tone cold as he closed the door behind himself.  Dacien stepped forward ever so slightly, his own aether having felt the room to ensure no traps of a magical variety laid in wait for him.  Though his father was more the type for brute force and anything magical would have been well beyond his capability.

“What do you want?”

“Such disrespect for your sire,” Almant scowled, “Though I suppose you’ve always been an ungrateful whelp.  Never doing what was best for the family and the house of your forefathers.”

Dacien frowned, arms slowly crossing against his chest as he narrowed his gaze at the older man.  He had suspicions.  He knew his brother’s reputation well enough and how his father quite regularly bought his way from trouble when Lucioux would ‘slip.’  Still though he said no more and after a moment Almant began to explain.

“It is well past time you do what is right by your birthright.  No more nonsense,” he explained, a strange calmness to his tone,”You’ve seen the shape your brother is in.  Should something happen to him we will need someone to raise our family through the ranks and maintain our standing through service to the city.  Long you’ve disgraced us with your choices and lack of ability.  No more.”

Dacien scoffed, a quiet laugh slipping free as he bit out, “Those wounds are not the type a dragon would give him.  And as you are well aware the war has ended.”

He paused, “Indulge me, whose path did he cross this time that you failed to buy his way free from.”

“Do not speak ill of your brother,” Almant roared, his voice still semi restrained but anger crossed his face and seemed to bubble and grow within him, “He is more of a son and a man than you could ever pray to the Fury to be.  Though that can and will be fixed.”

Dacien frowned, his father knew him better than to think he would simply comply.  In fact he had not complied for quite some time so the man wondered what trick was up his father’s sleeve.  

“I am not a pawn in your machinations.  Neither should Lucioux have been, nor mother,” Dacien retorted coldly and calmly, “If you seek to better your position perhaps you should work through your own efforts instead of others.”

There was a pause, one that caused Dacien’s hackles to raise a bit.  That compounded when Almant grinned, seemingly gleeful all of a sudden as he tapped one finger on the top of his desk, “Ah yes… Your dear mother.  Her health has taken a turn of late.  A good obedient son however would know this… he would do all in his power to better her situation.”

Dacien’s eyes widened the tiniest fraction but it was enough that Almant had seen it.  The man knew all he had to was find something the man cared for and exploit it.  Truly Dacien was so much like Cisent in that regard.

“You will give up this foolish shop of yours, no more magic, you will sign up and begin training for the temple knights,” Almant ordered, the perverse smile on his face growing slightly as he tilted his head, “You will return home and be the dutiful son you should have been all along… Or I’m not sure what ailments might befall your mother.”

“How dare you,” Dacien growled quietly after a pause, “That you would sink so low… To use mother, to try and use me.  Lucioux always did favor your temperment but still… “

Almant laughed, loud and spread his arms wide, “Yes such righteous indignation.  Try and claim that you are not flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood and bound to the rules of this family.  Too long I’ve allowed you to run rampant without bringing you under heel.  No more.  You WILL obey this time and do as you are told.”

“There is no other to offer you aid and support,” he continued, his tone becoming more lost to madness as he went, “Your cousin is a useful tool to keep you in line.  There are many and more ways I can use her to keep you in check just as easily.  Though I would prefer you to be long gone and no more burden to me Lucioux cannot be expected to fulfill his duties at present so they now fall to you.”

Dacien glared as Almant continued, “Should you resist I will easily see Evie’s fall from grace and society, despite the measures in place her fortunes and connections will falter and your shop will meet a similar fate.  No more defiance, no more opposition.”

“You’re mad,” Dacien stated, no surprise to his tone, “You think such threats will bring me to be your pawn, your puppet…”

His aether began to churn ever so slightly and he felt Mouse tense as the creature hid still.  Carefully he reined himself in as best he could though he could feel his irritation draw up those darker parts of himself.

“There is nothing stopping myself or Evie from leaving and I shall not hesitate to convince mother to come with,” Dacien threatened, “You cannot bend us to your will.  I care little for this city in and of itself or it’s people.  I could quite easily make a life well away with them and you could not touch us.”

His fingers were itching to clench and channel aether but he resisted as he continued, “You do not scare me.  Once perhaps but no more.  I’m not a child that will cower in a crawl space fearing your wrath.”

“You aren’t so untouchable whelp,” Almant growled as his hand clutched the cane tightly.  That oh so familiar cane he’d held one night several years ago, “Others have thought the same and were proven quite wrong.  Others wiser about the world than you by far.  Or at least they thought they were.”

Dacien paused, a questioning look crossed his face as he tilted his head slightly.  Something about that concerned him, something sent a red flag off.  Just what had Almant meant with that.  Wheels clicked in his head and small memories flitted to the forefront.  As his eyes narrowed he repeated himself, “I told you once, I should have thought your hearing good enough still.  I will not be brought to your terms.  I would sooner leave the city than bend to your whims.  You could have very well disowned me years past and yet you haven’t.  It would have been easier or is it that you can’t.  Because you can’t admit you’ve lost, that you aren’t able to make just everyone do what you want.”

More accusation and less question Dacien flung the words free.  Truthfully he had never cared whether or not his father kept him in the family or not.  He had his own fortunes built up, he had his uncle’s ventures that he and Evie managed.  Those were more than enough to live comfortably on far from Almant’s grasp.     Dacien could easily see rage and anger twist his father’s features as anger overtook him.

“You spout the same nonsense as your uncle.  He expected me to just let you go that night, to allow my own flesh and blood to walk free and out of my grasp.  He was a fool and he paid for it,” Almant bit out.  His tone was harsh and angry, yet quiet and strangely controlled.  It seemed all reason had fled the man and only raw emotion and a loss of sanity remained as he pressed on, “I warned him then that I would hope you to not be so foolish, so similar and yet here you are.  Thinking that you can defy me once more.  Disowning you would be doing you a favor and I shall not do that.”

Realization struck as pieces fell into place in Dacien’s mind.  Things that had never quite added up now came crashing through with a stark clarity combined into the realization that what he and everyone had been led to believe was a lie.  Still a part of him wanted to hope it was merely anger talking, anything else even if it meant that the sinking dread in his stomach were a falsehood.

“What did you do?” Dacien murmured, as much afraid of the truth as he was eager to finally know it, “A heretic wasn’t really Uncle’s murderer was it…”

The look that crossed Almant’s face was a horrific mix of amusement and twisted glee as he replied, “It’s quite remarkable how easily one can purchase a puppet though they are prone to failing… sometimes it’s better to take matters into one’s own hands.  Something I should have done with you long ago.”

His gaze darkened and eyes narrowed as Dacien stood shocked and still at that revelation, “While I cannot do the same to you without hindering my plans there are others you care about who are not  quite so indispensable.”

Silence hung over the room as aether churned within Dacien.  Darkened lips curled into a vicious snarl as he looked at the man who was his father.  The man who had murdered his own blood and kin. The man who had stolen Evie’s father from her.  His aether surged and the tight hold he kept on his temper threatened to break.  More now than ever things made sense to him.

“Murderer.”

The word was a cold, growl almost from those darkened lips.  Turquoise eyes, dimly glowing, were narrowed in a glare as he tried to rein himself in.  Almant cackled then, laughter bubbling free from his throat as he watched Dacien’s hands clench, claw like finger nails digging into the man’s pale palms.

“I see the rage and hatred fill your eyes.  Does it upset you? Does it make you want to kill me?  Hah! Finally proof that maybe you really are my son and not some bastard she shackled me with,” Almant crowed as he continued laughing.

Mouse bristled against Dacien’s neck as the small voidsent felt every fluctuation of aether, every call of Dacien’s magic to lash out and strike the man who had helped create him from the world.  He wanted to end him, to end the suffering he’d put his mother through, for what he did to Cisent and Evie.  The tension in the room grew as Dacien’s aura, oppressive and churning practically oozed from his being.  Almant smirked as he felt it, despite lacking any magical affinity the man could practically taste the killing intent in the room as that aether licked at his being.

“More like your father than you’d ever wanted to admit,” he chuckled lowly as he regarded Dacien.

Those words however had turquoise eyes opening wide as realization set in.  As much as he wanted to punish his father, as much as he hated the man and knew he deserved his fate… it made him no better.  Carefully he pulled himself back together, reining in his aether and focusing on calming himself.  Almant frowned as he realized the shift and even Mouse perked his head up, still hidden beneath Dacien’s hair.  The small creature had been wholly ready to assist in the destruction of this man, he knew how he had hurt Dacien and those he cared for yet why stop.

There was silence, tense and punctuated by the tick of the clock in the corner before Dacien offered his explanation, words quiet and clear, “I am not you, nor am I like you.  If I were to strike you down I’d be no better than you...a murderer.  I’m going to make this very clear Almant.”

He paused, slowly letting enough of his aura free, controlled and meant to back up his next words, “You will leave.  I don’t care where you go or what you do but you will leave the city and leave mother and the others alone. Yes, even Lucioux. They will never see your face again and you will never again breathe the Coerthan air.  A ‘business trip’ will call you away and keep you from ever returning.”

Almant glared as Dacien continued, this was not working how he envisioned it and yet a tremor of fear shot through him.  It bolstered his irritation at his son as Dacien pressed on.

“If I ever hear of you coming in the city, or near them again it will be the last act you take.  I’m going to be generous, something you never were, and give you this one chance.  However if you take that generosity for granted...I am not responsible for the fate which will befall you.”

Another pulse of energy, to help drive home his point slipped free from Dacien as Almant growled.  He was ready to bite back with a retort, some threat or biting comment to reduce his son to ash when there was a movement of Dacien’s hand.  Impossibly fast and with a strange accuracy the magic flew free and destroyed an ink pot on the desk leaving nothing but a scorched mark and a drop of ink.

“Am I completely clear?  You are no longer a part of this family and as such will never show your face here again.  Write a letter to mother explaining your sudden trip and after I’ve ensured it appropriate I’ll deliver it myself to her,” he offered as he turned and made to walk away.  Almant’s hand tightened on the cane as he moved to pull the hidden weapon within it out.  Before he could however another shot of magic was loosed, from Dacien’s hand despite having his back to Almant.

The message was crystal clear and Almant felt an actual shiver of fear tear down his spine.  The momentary realization that maybe Dacien was more of a formidable opponent crept to his mind and he was tense until he heard that door close.  Left alone in his study fear gave way to anger once more.  Fists clenched he slammed them on the desk, unaware of the eyes watching him from the shadows.  Two turquoise pinpricks focused on the man from the far corner of the room.  Dacien had likely felt the small creature shift from his position but it was normal for Mouse to wander a bit in the home when they were there.  After a particularly close call one day when Adrienne had moved to play with her son’s hair the voidsent had learned that sometimes it was not the safest place to hide.

“Damnable whelp thinks he can order me around,” Almant grumbled as he slammed into the seat at his desk.  Fists hit the wood once more and he showed no signs of following the ‘request’ made.  Instead a drawer was opened and a strange firearm was removed, small and concealable carrying but a single shot.  Mouse’s eyes widened and the small voidsent chittered quietly.  His friend was too lenient.  This man had shown who he was and what he was capable of.  To let him live...that was a mistake the voidsent felt.  Slowly, carefully so as to not alert Dacien Mouse began to limit the connection of their bond.  He’d done this before on occasion and rarely did it cause alarm after the first time when Mouse had explained.  It made it easier to sneak about, and less taxing on Dacien if he was farther away.  

More grumbling from the desk, accompanied by vows to teach the boy his place as a dagger came forth and Mouse knew that his friend had been too kind.  Too lenient.  Something the small creature would handle with ease.  Dacien once had been a means to an end.  Over time the voidsent had found instead someone who treated him as an equal, a friend and not a tool.  That dynamic had changed and now the two were close in the strangest of ways.  The connection was dimmed to the lowest Mouse could without alarming Dacien as he carefully opened the tiniest of ‘doorways.’  The shadows grew, barely noticeable at first as other voidsent from the shop used the pathway over.  Harkened by Mouse’s call.  The explanation had been simple.  This man had threatened their friend.  He would do him harm and harm to those their friend held dear.  The response was instantaneous and Mouse’s tiny mouth quirked into a smirk as he saw more and more of their kind appear.  Tiny scratches of claws on wood, chittering and quiet skrees rang out ominously as the aura of the room turned terrifying.  Almant had paused, eyes flickering all over at the noises.  The hair on the back of his neck was standing straight up and something felt horribly wrong.

The shadows in the corners of the room were moving.  At first he thought it a trick of the fire and light but no, that was impossible after he watched how they were moving.  His hand moved to the weapons he’d set out, ready to reach for one in his own defense though he was still ‘alone’ by his own eyes.  Yet Almant did not feel alone.  The tremor in his spine, the sounds of chittering and claws on wood grew as the shadows surged forward slowly.  

  
“What are you? What do you want?” he growled out, angry and white knuckled grip on the arm rest of the chair while his other hand grasped the pistol, “Is this one of your wretched magic tricks Dacien.. You think to scare me, to frighten me into submitting… Foolish whelp.”

  
His words were more bravado as terror began to take root, the chittering was closer now, the shadows practically licking at the legs of his chair as they moved forward.  Certainly not the effects from the fire at all.  Wildly he gestured around with the gun, but to use the single shot he needed to know where to hit.  This was all around him, surrounding the whole room.  A strange feeling crept up his spine as two turquoise pinpricks of glowing light opened across the room.  Eyes he realized as the creature came forward toward him.  A menacing set of skrees and chitters slipped from it’s mouth and the shadows teemed with energy, other small pinpricks of light opening thoughout.   A surge of terror overtook Almant as he looked at them then fell back to that pair so similar to his son’s own.

“What in the…” he gasped out as he shakily raised the weapon, “Get back! Get away!”

Chittering followed, almost a mocking laugh from the darkness as suddenly he heard the voice in his head.  Wildly he whipped around trying to place where it was coming from only to look forward again and realize that small creature was on his desk staring intently at him.

_ “He was far too lenient in letting you be.  You would harm those I hold dear, those who he holds dear.  This will not be allowed.” _

Realization struck that the creature on his desk was talking to him, the strange frightening voice echoing in his head.  He didn’t know how, but it was.  The weapon was lowered, aimed at Mouse until a dark purple burst of aether erupted around Almant’s hand causing him to drop it and cry out in pain.

_ “You will do as we tell you.  Your life is forfeit already.  The truth…. Write it down that others may know.  Write what we ask and then you shall be free.” _

Almant froze, features contorting in rage but another burn scored up his arm, a warning clearly.  Claws curled around the corners of the chair he sat on, reminders of what was to come from disobedience and begrudgingly he wrote.  He wrote of what he had done to his brother.  Another ‘careful’ prod also wrote a letter to Adrienne explaining how he was fleeing the city due to his crimes.  One last letter was prodded and his face was the picture of loathing as he signed his name at the bottom.  Mouse however was quite pleased.

“I’ve done as you asked,” Almant started, tone quiet and full of irritation, “Now get out and I’ll leave.”

A horrifying laugh tore from that small lizard like creature on the desk and the irritation in Almant grew but was quickly overcome by fear at the words that followed,  _ “You have done as we asked… and now we will free you.  Free from the ability to hurt those we hold dear.” _

The darkness chittered once more, practically snuffing out even the light from the hearth as the voidsent and shadows swirled over Almant’s seated form.  Mouse sat and watched, the bond to Dacien shut off completely for the moment while the other voidsent consumed the man.  Nothing would be left.  It would be as if he left and once this was done Mouse himself would deliver the letters to Dacien to do with as he saw fit.  The letters admitting Almant’s guilt and his subsequent ‘flight’ from the city.  The letters instating his second son as head of the family, the new Lord of House Mythale.  Slowly the shadows edged away and the noises quieted.  A seat empty save a scrap of fabric and one signet ring remained.  Mouse gave a nod as he opened the connection to Dacien slowly while the others slid away into the darkness and back home to the shop, their task complete.  Carefully the small creature moved over to reread what was written while he awaited the return of his friend.  He knew the elezen would be curious what had happened.  Why Mouse had shut down the connection between the two.  This had been Mouse’s choice however and he would ensure no blame fell to Dacien for it.  No one would ever know what really became of Almant Mythale that day, just that he had passed the Lordship to his second son, to Dacien.


End file.
